The Wizard's Apprentice
by Kai19
Summary: Based on the fairy tale, "The Wizard Outwitted". 11 year old Harry Potter escapes from his uncle, and finds himself at the home and shop of the Evil Wizard, Voldemort. mention of V TMR /HP
1. Chapter 1

This story is based on an original short story, "The Wizard's Apprentice," by Delia Sherman, which was actually itself based on an old Russian fairytale called, "The Wizard Outwitted". I've just changed quite a few things to make it fit with our favorite wizards. It just worked so perfectly, I couldn't help it!

**Disclaimer! **As such, the characters (and basic plot, and the occasional line), aren't mine.

Oh, also, it won't let me add line breaks. It sucks.

Enjoy anyway!

**The Wizard's Apprentice**

Chapter 1

There's an evil Wizard living in Little Whinging, Surrey. It says so on the sign hanging outside his shop:

_Evil Wizard Books_

_L. Voldemort, Proprietor_

His shop is also his house, which looks just like an evil Wizard's should, dark and foreboding as it rose above the sidewalk leading up to the front door, snakes carved into the wood around the frame and a long snake's tail leading to the bell at the top of the door, which was in the shape of the head of the snake, the clapper inside that rang being the snake's tongue. The house had likely looked respectable at one point, but the flower gardens were now mostly herbs, and hissing could be heard under the porch if you stomped too loud. The exterior was painted a dark grey, although many who were older would whisper about how, when they had been children themselves, their grandparents had said the walls were actually once a 'lovely' pale, slate blue, with white shutters. Now it was all grey, or black in some places. One of the few places of color was the upstairs window, which was thought to be the Wizard's bedroom, which shone in many different colors of light throughout the night, when most good, decent people were asleep.

Inside of the shop, were rows upon rows of shelves of old, musty books. They were large and dusty and some were hand-written by people long-dead, making them harder to read. Of course, not many people were brave enough to enter the building. It was mostly tourists, pausing for a glance through the unique store in hopes of a nice souvenir, only to end up hurrying out soon after, refusing to discuss what had happened.

It could've had something to do with the Wizard himself. Lord Voldemort, as he was called, though no one knew where the 'Lord' came from nor what kind of name 'Voldemort' was, was very tall, with pale, taut skin, piercing red eyes, lips so thin they were thought by some to be none-existent, a nose that looked more like a pair of slits cut into his face, and absolutely no hair. Not on his face, head, or arms, that anyone could see. He had long, thin fingers, and a way of speaking that sounded almost like a soft rasp, which could suddenly gain strength as he grew annoyed. He always wore a long, black robe over a black suit, with a grey shirt under the coat, and a red tie over that. And nearby, you could usually hear the slithering of his only companion, a huge pet serpent he referred to as, 'Nagini'.

There were rumors about what he, as an evil Wizard, could do. Some say he turned people (including himself) into animals. Others said he could actually speak to that snake he kept around him. Many argued that, if he could do such things, then surely he could turn animals into humans, too, and these were only a few of the whispers about the unusual man. He could give you cramps, break your bones, even kill you with a look or a spoken word. He could summon storms, kill your pets, cause your house to burn down, all with a flick of his wrist. If you were truly unlucky, he could send his pet snake slithering into your home to bite you as you slept. He could even hex you to do horrible things to yourself, cursed to shoot yourself in the foot (or worse). So people understandably were willing to keep their distance, and leave him alone.

Well, not completely alone. Besides his snake, once in a blue moon, when people could swear the next morning they had heard wolves howling and thunder rumbling (even though wolves hadn't been seen in the area in almost a century, and the skies were completely clear), an apprentice would appear at the shop, working for the evil Wizard for varying amounts of time before suddenly disappeared. Either a few months, or a few years, it didn't matter. None lasted more than 3 years, and then they were gone. Just gone. And no one really went looking for them, or worried about them, since they had to be horrible boys in the first place, to have chosen to work for an evil Wizard, right? So they must've deserved it, having not been good people.

Though it really depends on the definition of 'good'.

Vernon Dursley would never refer to his nephew as 'good'. Harry Potter was the opposite of 'good', in his opinion. The boy was a liar and a thief, lazy and very near useless. He had a poor attitude, was stupid, and would never amount to anything. Not like his own little boy, Dudley, whom he and his wife agreed was the best boy there was. But they had to take care of his wife's nephew, and so he was stuck with the horrible brat, who was little more than a waste of both a bed and food.

To be fair, Harry _was _a liar and a thief, and he did tend to sleep during the day. But since Vernon beat Harry daily, and sometimes twice a day, there was really little point in attempting to please the man by behaving politely and curbing his tongue. He stole food from the fridge at night because otherwise he wasn't fed enough. What little food his aunt and uncle gave him would usually be stolen by their fat "perfect" son, Dudley, when they were distracted. And he took naps through the day because his uncle worked him like a slave, from sunrise to sunset. And he lied so often simply because he was actually quite smart (books being often thrown away in their house, Harry was able to sneak them for a quick read between naps and work), and knew that if he could turn his uncle's anger to someone else, or to something else, like a broken hoe keeping him from tending the garden, then Harry would escape an extra beating, or at least a weakened one.

It was no surprise he tried to run away quite a few times. Of course, he was always dragged back by his uncle, which would've been confusing, considering the man's severe dislike of him, but Harry did know how to cook better than his Aunt Petunia, thanks to all of the cookbooks he'd read, and they liked having the free labor. Not to mention, it seemed the family couldn't be happy without Harry there to bully around. But no matter the reason, he always got caught by the huge man, and forced back to the house, and back into the little cupboard under the stairs, usually locked in until it was time to cook again.

But on his eleventh birthday, Harry decided that he wasn't going to be caught again. He snuck out of his cupboard as soon as he knew the family was all asleep. It helped that they all snored as loudly as passing trains. He quickly made a sandwich and wrapped it up to go before slipping out the front door and racing off. He had to hurry and make use of his time to get as far as possible. He finally sat down to rest around sunrise and ate half of his sandwich, then got up to keep going. At lunch he ate the other half of his sandwich, pausing for another short rest before continuing. When nightfall came, he had walked a long way, and his stomach was growling. Then, lucky him, it began to rain.

He had been sticking to the woods, as far away from towns as possible in order to avoid his uncle, who would no doubt be searching for him. But now, as night fell and he was hungry and soaked through, he began to look around hopefully for lights. It took him almost another hour before he finally saw a bright green light, high in the trees in the distance. He hurried towards it, not even pausing. Harry had always liked green, after all, with his own bright green eyes helping to make him look different from the people who called themselves his family.

Not even pausing to stare at the foreboding structure in front of him, Harry hurried up the steps, hissing back at the sound that came up from under the porch before knocking loudly on the door, standing and shivering as he waited. Nothing happened for a while, and he wondered if maybe the person wasn't home, but then the heavy door opened with a loud squeak of un-oiled hinges, and he found himself looking up at burning red eyes set in a pale, unusual face.

"What do you want?" the man asked in a rasping, almost hissing voice. Normally, it would've sent Harry running right back into the woods, but due to the circumstances, his mouth over-rode his brain, and he looked right back at the man before replying.

"Something to eat and a place to rest. I'm soaked through, too." Those red eyes narrowed at the boy's words, and he let out a low hiss, which was answered by another hiss at his feet. Harry glanced down to see a snake, then looked back up at the man when he heard him speaking English again.

"Can you read, boy?"

"What?"

"Are you deaf, or just stupid? Can you _read_?"

Taking in the sight of the frightening man in front of him, the snake he seemed much too comfortable with, and now the dark, intimidating house he stood in front of, he decided that maybe he shouldn't trust the man with… anything. Yet.

"Sorry, no. Never learned."

"Are you sure?" He held out a business card to the dark-haired boy. "Take a look at this."

Harry inspected the card, turning it upside-down and looking at it in confusion. Then he finally handed it back with a semi-apologetic shrug, very glad he'd lied.

The card said:

_Evil Wizard Books_

_Lord Voldemort, Proprietor_

_Arcana, Alchemy, Animal Transformation_

_Speculative Fiction_

_Monday-Saturday. By Chance and by Appointment_

Voldemort continued to look at Harry with those piercing red eyes, and the young boy tried not to fidget on the doorstep. As Harry's glasses fogged up from the wind and his breath, the older man shrugged and stepped into the shop, leaving the door open. His snake slithered off to some other place in the building as well, and the Wizard called back out to Harry. "You're letting the rain in! Close the door behind you and leave your shoes there. I don't want you dripping all over the floor, and certainly not on the books!" He returned with a large towel, and Harry eagerly shut the door behind him and removed his shoes as he was told, wrapping himself up in the towel to dry off.

And that was how Harry Potter became Lord Voldemort's new apprentice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wizard's Apprentice**

Chapter 2

At first he thought it was going to be a few chores in return for a night's rest and a hot meal or two, but in the morning breakfast was ready when he reached the kitchen, and as he took his last bite, Voldemort stood and told Harry to follow him. They went to the actual storefront, and the snake hissed up at the boy as the Wizard turned to look at him, handing him a broom and a feather duster.

"Clean the front room," he said. "Floor and books and shelves. Every speck of dust and dirt needs to be gone. And be careful with the books!" Nodding, Harry took the items and got to work, pausing only when the snake hissed at him, getting his attention to realize it was actually past lunchtime. She nipped at his heels to force him back to the kitchen, where he sat down for a quick already-made lunch before washing the dishes and hurried back out to the front room.

He worked hard, putting his best effort into it, but never did it seem to have any effect. He would sweep some dirt out the front door, only to find the floors still covered with dirt when he turned back to look. The books always stayed dusty, and he was sure he'd wiped down those shelves. But at the end of the day, when Voldemort came to look, he frowned as his red eyes scoured the room.

"That won't do at all. You'll try again tomorrow. For now, go make dinner. There should be plenty to cook with in the pantry and refrigerator." He waved Harry off, and the boy hurried back to the kitchen, looking through the cupboards and pantry and fridge before starting on the meal. He had to admit, it was much better than his uncle's house, even though the house was dark and filthy, and Voldemort himself was an Evil Wizard, ugly, and sharp-tongued. But he had a bed in a room, not a cot in a cupboard, plenty of food, some of which was made by hands not his own, and if Voldemort ended up getting to show that more evil side of him, then Harry could always run away again.

Days later, and the front room looked even dirtier than when Harry had started, much to his confusion. After his daily inspection, Voldemort turned to him with burning red eyes.

"I've met dogs smarter than you," he hissed. "I should turn you into one and sell you off in the paper. You must have at least some form of a brain in there, or you wouldn't be able to talk. You'd better use it, boy. I'm losing my patience."

Figuring it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort began hitting and starving him like Uncle Vernon, Harry decided his time at the bookstore had come to an end. He slipped into the kitchen later and made himself another sandwich, and headed out the back door, tiptoeing as quietly as possible so as not to get Nagini's attention, or worse, Voldemort's. Once outside, he made his way down the sidewalk towards the road, but as soon as he put his foot on the main sidewalk that ran along the road, he found himself back on porch leading into the back door of the bookstore again. He repeated this process until dawn, when Voldemort smirked as he watched Harry walk back into the kitchen through the back door for what had to be the hundredth time.

"Running away?" Voldemort watched the boy with that cruel smirk, red eyes never leaving the figure standing in front of him, sandwich in hand.

"Nope," Harry replied, "I just wanted some fresh air, sir."

"There's air in the house," the evil Wizard pointed out.

"It's too dusty."

"If you don't like the dust, you had best get rid of it, then, yes?" Harry made breakfast while Voldemort sat at the table and watched, pointing out the whole time that, since Harry had been up so early, he could've already made it and been working on the cleaning again.

After the dishes were washed and put away, Voldemort went back to his room, where colored light could be seen under the door. Sometimes it was red, others it was green. Now and then there was yellow or blue or even purple. Most often it was green, though.

Remembering what the Wizard had said, Harry began to try and use his brain in regards to his problem. As he cleaned, he found himself staring at the titles of the books, embossed along the leather spines. Then he was taking them down to thumb through them, glancing at the writing inside. And finally, he was pausing in his work to read over a few pages, interested by the information he found inside. He began to learn how to do many things, like telling fortunes with tea leaves (something he personally didn't care much for), and the many kinds of fantastic animals there were that he'd never heard of, like grims and thestrals and even basilisks.

Finally, behind a chair he would've sworn he'd cleaned numerous times, he saw a book set aside. Curious, he picked it up, only to blink in surprise at the title on the cover. "Witch's Guide to Practical Housekeeping", it read. Curious, he flipped through the book as he ate lunch alone, hoping to find something that would help him. And it did. His lunch lasted a little longer than usual, but now he had his answers. The front room had a chaos spell on it, and it needed to be broken before he could do anything else.

It took a few days just to break the spell, and he continued to give the premise of cleaning in order to cover up what he was actually doing, but finally it was accomplished, and he managed to get the room to a spotless state of perfection that would've even made Aunt Petunia jealous. Though after his inspection, Voldemort didn't seem impressed. If anything, he seemed suspicious, and ruby-red eyes narrowed at the young Potter as he hissed in annoyance.

"You did this all yourself, hm?"

"Yes, sir."

"Without any help whatsoever?"

"Yes, sir. May I leave now?"

Now Voldemort lost his annoyed look, and he actually smirked down at Harry. "Nope. We're out of firewood. Go fill the woodbox."

It was no surprise to Harry that the woodbox was just as impossible to fill as the shop's front room had been to clean. So he found himself back amongst the books in the shop, looking for something, anything, that could help him. And one book that was a little out of line with the others, drew his attention. As he read through the book, he was surprised to learn about how to carry water in a colander, and more importantly, how to fill items with holes in them. Or spells on them.

After he finished filling the woodbox, he received a new task. Then another. And another. Each time getting a little more impossible, from sorting grains of rice to building a wall in a day, to turning a holly branch into a rose. By the time he'd mastered these, it was winter, and freezing cold out. But Harry didn't even bother with being concerned with the weather anymore, since he had no desire to run away anymore.

It wasn't that he liked Voldemort any better than he had before. The man was still a little crazy and cruel, and he would still hiss and insult Harry, and his looks hadn't improved any. But no matter what, Harry always had blankets on a real bed in a real room, plenty of food on the table, and Voldemort never raised a hand to him. Even better, Harry was learning magic, and he wanted to continue doing so.

As the months passed, Harry learned many more things, including turning himself into an animal, his favorite thing to do. He'd learned that each animal had their own way of speaking, and could even remember some of the hisses to talk to Nagini while he was still a human. That was how he learned that Voldemort talked to her, too. She still preferred the evil Wizard, but occasionally Harry would wake up to find her sleeping in his bed, and a few times her head was resting on his chest.

His twelfth birthday came around, and Harry was making his favorite dinner when Voldemort entered the room and leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his black robes and suit. "You should make enough for three," he informed Harry in his rasping voice. "Your uncle is on his way."

"Then I had better get going," Harry replied almost calmly, shutting the oven door and standing straight, setting aside the towel he'd used to remove the hot pan from the oven.

"No point in it, is there?" Voldemort asked. Then, without waiting for Harry's answer, he responded to his own question. "No, no. He'll always hunt you down, and he'll always find you. Family is always hard to hide from, and if he got your cousin or aunt involved, it would be even harder, since they're blood family." He made it very clear with his stance, never moving away from the doorway, that he wouldn't be allowing Harry even the chance to run. So the boy tried to focus on setting the table, including the spot for his uncle, at the Wizard's reminder. He just hoped Voldemort didn't see his hand shake as he set the forks down by the plates. Or how he jumped when he heard a car pull up, and the door of it slam shut. Nor how he pressed back against the sink and flinched when Vernon banged on the front door of the shop. While Nagini stayed with Harry, Voldemort went to the front door to answer it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wizard's Apprentice**

Chapter 3

As soon as the door was opened, the Wizard was practically shoved aside by the fat man, a beefy hand moving him out of the way. "I know that freak's here," he growled out, "so don't bother saying you haven't seen him. Where is he?"

"I wouldn't dream of lying to you, sir. Your nephew is in the kitchen, waiting for you." He showed the large man the way, discreetly brushing off his robes as though trying to wipe away the man's touch. In the kitchen, Vernon Dursley turned to glare at Voldemort, his face turning so red it looked ready to deepen into purple.

"Well? Where is he? You said he was in here." Voldemort merely pointed calmly under the table. There were four black puppies under the table, looking back at the men. "What in the ruddy hell is going on here?" Vernon growled.

"One of those puppies is your nephew. If you choose the wrong one, you leave and never return. If you choose the right one, you win two more chances to recognize him. Choose the right one all three times, and you can have him." Voldemort's voice was soft and raspy, and he spoke calmly, though Harry would've identified it as being 'smug' sounding, having gotten used to his moods in their time at the shop together.

"And what's to stop me from taking him right now?"

"Me," the Wizard hissed out, standing straight and tall, red eyes burning in his pale face as he smirked more cruelly than Harry had ever seen.

"And who the devil are you?"

"I am the Evil Wizard, Lord Voldemort," was the hissed reply. But Vernon Dursley visibly recoiled, obviously deeply displeased at the news.

"You're a freak, is what you are," the fat man growled back. "I could turn you into the police for kidnapping and holding my nephew prisoner." Then he tried to give his own smirk back, though it wasn't as confident as Voldemort's was. "Lucky for you, I'm a good person, and a good sport. I'll play your little game." He looked down at the puppies and began to nudge them with his foot. Three of the puppies were happy to pounce on the shoe and play, chewing at the leather, but one puppy moved back away from him, whining softly each time the shoe came near him, curling in as if to protect his stomach from a kick. Grinning smugly, Vernon reached out and snatched the puppy by the scruff of the neck, causing it to turn back into a young boy with wild black hair and bright green eyes. "You always were a coward," he snarled, though he was grasping thin air as Harry disappeared.

"Once," Voldemort declared, then led him to the storage room, where there were numerous boxes waiting to be unpacked. In a corner were four spider webs, with four identical spiders in the centers of them. "One of these is your nephew-" the Wizard began, but Vernon interrupted him, waving his words off.

"I know, I know. Be quiet and let me concentrate." He leaned in to study each spider and their web. Then he inspected them a second, and a then a third time. The fat uncle leaned in close to try and see any small details, and he began to curse angrily under his breath about the 'filthy little freak', his breath rattling their webs. Three of the spiders curled into little knots, trying to look dead or invisible, as if seeing him as a possible predator. But one of the spiders, not having these natural instincts, did not. And Vernon laughed as he pulled back and pointed. "That one."

Harry appeared beneath the web, looking worried and depressed, as if he knew the outcome already. Vernon reached out to grab him, but he disappeared again.

"Twice," Voldemort told him, but before he could move the fat man was up and in his face.

"What's next? I don't have all evening, you know! Hurry it up!" Frowning in annoyance, Voldemort nodded and picked up a lantern, lighting it before leading Vernon outside into the darkness. In a tree by the shop, on the fringe of the forest, sat four black ravens. They were young and just ready to fly, and Vernon waddled over to the nest to lean in and try to figure out which one was his nephew. But as he approached the nest, three of the ravens reacted, flying at the fat man and pecking and cawing angrily at him. One of the ravens quickly hopped onto the nest, facing the forest, and spread its wings to fly.

"That one!" Harry's uncle declared, pointing at the bird that immediately turned back into a twelve-year-old boy. Before anything could stop him, Vernon grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt, the other three ravens flying off. Harry struggled and squirmed, trying to get out of his uncle's beefy grip, but at the sound of a hissing sigh, he froze and looked over to Voldemort. The man seemed to be disappointed, but he shrugged.

"And thrice. You've won. Harry's yours." The boy seemed to lose all of his energy, and he slumped at his uncle's feet. At least, until Vernon kicked at him and told him to 'get in the damn car'. Refusing Voldemort's offer of a meal, or at least tea, the Dursley patriarch forced his nephew into the vehicle, not letting him retrieve anything from his room. Within moments, they were on the road, driving away from the small bookshop Harry had come to think of as a possible home.

At the first red light, Harry threw the door open and tried to run for it. But Vernon was prepared, and he reached out and snatched his nephew back into the car before he'd even gotten out. Grabbing some rope, he tied the boy's hands and feet, locking the door and laughing at him as the light turned green and they continued on towards what Harry knew was his prison. But as he began to drive, the heavens seemed to open up, and a severe thunderstorm kicked up, lightning flashing across the sky as the roads quickly flooded, and visibility dropped. Suddenly the car skidded and slid, and there was a crash, crunching metal heard as they collided head-first into something. Furious, Vernon threw the car into park and turned it off before climbing out to go see what he'd hit.

Looking out the door his uncle had left open, Harry was shocked to see a very familiar snake slither out from behind his uncle's seat and out into the storm, pausing to look back at him. "Well?" it hissed, then slithered off, like it was expecting Harry to follow. After all, Harry had always followed, anytime he saw Nagini behave like that. With a quick gasp, Harry realized the answer to his problem. He quickly transformed himself into a snake to slither off after the familiar serpent. But as he was slipping out of Vernon's open door, the fat man returned, roaring furiously at the sight of his missing nephew, and the snake trying to escape. He reached out to grab Harry, but the boy slithered away quickly, using the currents of water to hurry him away. Now Vernon grabbed a pistol from under his seat, and took off after Harry.

Terrified, the 12-year-old slithered into the woods, trying to escape Vernon's reach. But his small body, compared to his uncle's, meant he covered much less ground. Plus he didn't know the woods, and certainly not from this viewpoint. He didn't know which way to go, and it was only a matter of time before he could feel Vernon coming closer, his feet causing vibrations in the small snake's body. It only made Harry more frightened, and he couldn't even think anymore, resorting to simply panicking and trying to _go_.

A real snake would've registered the smells and sounds and the taste of the air. A real snake would've known there had been more than one mudslide nearby, caused by the rain. A real snake would've slithered away from the unstable ground that could crush him. Harry slithered towards it. It was only by sheer, dumb luck that he slithered around the precarious mound of earth, while Vernon chose to go over it, pointing his pistol and cursing at his nephew, planning to at least shoot his tail off. He didn't care if the boy was hurt or anything, so long as he had his free labor back. The freak could heal.

But the earth gave away, and Vernon was caught up in the landslide, spitting out mud as it flowed over him, carrying him down a steep hill and away from Harry. The pistol fired repeatedly as he fell, and Harry slithered faster than he thought he could in his terror. It had been one thing to escape an abusive uncle. It was another when he felt his life was actually in danger. He slithered so fast, and without pause, until he heard another slithering nearby. His belly burned from moving along it for so long, but he still glanced over to see what was there. A black snake was slithering right alongside him, bright red eyes burning as lightning flashed over them. And then there was a very familiar, hissing laugh.

"That was exciting," Voldemort told him as the two snakes finally paused to rest. Harry couldn't even think of trying to move at the moment, his entire body ached.

"He was going to shoot me!" He told his former master as he tried to gulp down air and rainwater.

"Probably. The man's a weak fool, with a brain no larger than a pea. Especially for racing off into a nighttime storm like that. He deserves whatever happened to him." Now Harry froze, his conscience speaking up in the back of his currently snake-y brain.

"I didn't kill him, did I? He's not dead, right?"

Voldemort scoffed, as best a snake could in that form. "One can only wish. No, I think he'll have gotten a fright, and perhaps even pneumonia from running about in this storm. Maybe a broken arm or leg at the worst. But we can hope he's too stupid or stubborn to go to the hospital, and the pneumonia could kill him. Or a wound can get infected." If anything, Voldemort sounded amused, or thoughtful, as though planning for the future.

Just as Harry began to relax, a new terror gripped him. "So he'll be able to come after me again?" he asked, body tensing up again. Surely if Vernon was willing to shoot him just for running away, then he would kill him over a broken bone.

But Voldemort let out another hissing laugh, his mouth opening to show fangs glistening with venom as if in threat. "Of course not."

Harry thought about asking if Voldemort was sure, but decided against it. The man was an evil Wizard. Not only would he know more than anyone else, but he wouldn't want his apprentice to ask too many questions. As a third snake joined them, a large boa, Voldemort uncoiled himself and began to slither slowly in the way the other snake had come from.

"If we want to be back before the sun rises, then we'll have to get going now. Though, that's if you even want to come back." When Harry, who had been slithering tiredly towards the self-proclaimed Lord, stopped and looked at him in confusion, Voldemort coiled halfway and looked down at the boy-turned-snake. "You won your freedom. You might want to go live a normal life, with a normal person, learning a normal trade. Maybe even go to school." Harry's response was immediate.

"Nope," he answered, slithering alongside Nagini towards the bookstore. "Can we have toast with jam and sunny-side-up eggs for breakfast? Maybe some bacon?"

"Only if you make it," Voldemort replied, joining the other snakes on their trek home.

...

There's an evil Wizard living in Little Whinging, Surrey. It says so on the sign hanging outside his shop. Sometimes tourists go in, looking for a book on the occult, or just a cheap thrill.

In the kitchen, two men sit at the table, bending over books and bowls of herbs, powders, and flasks of liquids. In the middle of the table was a small cauldron, and they were discussing the potion they were currently working on. The younger of the two is a 16 year old with wild black hair and bright green eyes, unhindered by the glasses he'd worn before his mentor corrected his eyesight with magic. It had been a birthday gift when he turned 13. Nagini had gifted him with a dead rabbit, which he'd used to cook their dinner. She had found it practical and perfect, and something she could provide without a Wizard's assistance.

The other man was also young, perhaps in his mid-to-late 20's, with slightly wavy dark chocolate brown hair, combed neatly each morning, though it was usually not as neat by lunch. Right now a lock of it was partially covering one of his dark blue eyes, and Tom Riddle blew it away with a puff from full lips, to move it away from his straight, rather normal nose. His tan skin glowed in the sunlight streaming in through the window, though Harry was a little tanner than him, enjoying being in the sun with Nagini more, while Tom tended to stay in the shade while reading outside.

Both men looked up when at the bell at the door rang, signifying someone wanted to enter the store. Eyes connected over the cauldron, and then Tom looked back down to the book, tossing a pinch of powder into the deep black pot. "Don't look at me," he told his companion, who continued to watch him. "I was the Evil Wizard last time. Besides, my foot's been hurting from when you dropped that book on my foot earlier."

"What you mean," Harry replied with a grin, "is that you're halfway through this new potion, and you don't want to be interrupted." This earned him a half-hearted swat at his head, which Harry easily dodged with a quiet laugh.

"If you don't respect my authority, apprentice, I'll turn you into a mouse for Nagini," Tom threatened, dark eyes teasing as he smirked at the teen. Harry rolled his eyes and got up, pulling on the black robe and tying it across his shoulders. His jeans and t-shirt were immediately disguised as a black suit with a grey shirt and black tie. As he reached out for the mask, he was suddenly pulled down, Tom's lips pressing against his for a brief moment before he nudged the teen towards the door. "Don't blow it," he reminded Harry, who grinned before pulling on the mask.

Thanks to the magic, the mask wrapped around his head, causing his eyes to glow red, and his nose and lips to look nearly non-existent. His wild black hair disappeared under it to make him look bald, and he slipped on the shoes with the extra added two inches to the insole, allowing him to look taller. After all, he was still shorter than the already-tall Tom Marvolo Riddle. The bell rang again, and Harry slipped out the door with a wink and a wave at his partner before heading towards the door, Nagini hissing up at him her displeasure at having been woken from her nap by the fireplace as she joined him. He petted her head fondly, still liking how she had snuck into his uncle's car that night in her decision to help her young master escape. Though she would imply that Tom had insisted on it, as well. And if Vernon had really gotten sick, or an infection, or his house had burned down after being struck by lightning, and their possessions were lost, well... the three of them hadn't given him much thought since Harry's escape, and return to the bookshop. So Harry wouldn't know.

Fighting off the smile he felt trying to grow on his face, Harry opened the door to the creaking sound of unoiled hinges.

"What do you want?" the Evil Wizard, Lord Voldemort (the 7th), asked in his hissing, rasping voice, his famous serpent partner climbing up his body to watch over his shoulder at their customer.

...

The end! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!


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